Sua Cuique Voluptas
by miette-rouge
Summary: My first fic, so please be nice! A Curt/Ewan type-thing (*slash alert*) and all reviews are welcome :)
1. Sua Cuique Voluptas Part 1

Part One

Ewan

God, I was exhausted. 12 hours of travelling, and for what? A crappy hotel with all the usual commodities of crappy hotels - over-priced mini-bars, a lumpy bed that poked up in all the worst places, and a shower which looked like it hadn't been cleaned properly in the best part of a year. Sighing, I stripped off and climbed gingerly into the shower, trying not to touch anything. The warm spray cascaded onto my head, and I tried to drown my thoughts in lemon-scented bubbles. I missed Eve, and I missed home. What with all the travelling this job entails, it would be expected that separation would get easier with time, but, fuck it, if anything, it gets harder. Every film script that comes through the door, I know that if I accept it, it'll mean minimum 6 months away from the people I love, and that hurts. No, 'hurts' isn't the right word. It cuts through to your soul, and you're racked with a mixture of guilt and duty – guilt for once again leaving those who own a piece of your heart, and a sense of duty because I have to do **something**, and if it wasn't acting, it would just be some dead-end job that I would think of as torture and detest every second I spent there. A severe case of can't live with it, can't live without it.

Drying myself roughly with a fluffy towel, I wrapped another one round my waist and padded out into the hallway. Filming didn't start till the next day, so I had 5 hours, plus sleeping time, to acquaint myself with Oz. Turning around, I noticed a piece of paper had been shoved under the door. First of all, I panicked – images of death threats, psychotic fans, and such like flashed through my head… no, no one knew I was here, other than the production team. Curiously, I picked up the paper and unfolded it. "CURT WILD LIVE ON STAGE TONIGHT!" then scrawled underneath: "Hi Ewan, thought you might be bored tonight, so, here's some light entertainment. Baz" Ah, always Mr Thoughtful, Baz had taken the care to find something for me to do, involving my love of music. I wrinkled my nose… Not really my kind of music, though. I vaguely remembered Curt Wild from years ago – I had been too young to take part, yet was now old enough to remember. He was a glam rocker, and at one point the press had been filled with stories of his wild romance with fellow glitter-boy, Brian Slade. I had always been slightly dismissive of any musicians who let their personal life interfere with their career, and Curt Wild had certainly done that – his relationship with Slade ended up costing him his record contract, and effectively, his career, at least for most of a decade. 

Glam had never appealed to me anyway, there was no angst or real meaning behind the lyrics, and it was too ponced up, too image-focused, for me, but I had nothing else lined up for that night, so I decided to give the concert a whirl. If I hated it, I could always leave, and what could be the worst thing that happened? Have a few beers and dig up some old memories, and what's so bad about that?


	2. Sua Cuique Voluptas Part 2

Part Two Ewan 

What does a glitter virgin wear to a glam concert? That was the question racing through my mind. I didn't want to look out of place, but I didn't want to pretend to be something I'm not. Basically, I wanted to fit in, but I didn't want to look like I was a lifetime glam-lover. After trying on and discarding several outfits, I decided on jeans, a tight black t-shirt and a leather jacket, and pencilled on some eyeliner as an afterthought. I studied myself in the mirror - glam enough to get me by, but not camp enough to proclaim myself as a sparkle child - perfect.

I needn't have worried – almost everyone, with a few exceptions who were doused in glitter and feathers, was dressed like me. Relaxing almost immediately, I ordered a Guinness and sank back into the atmosphere that only a live gig can provide. The small venue was throbbing with energy and excitement, and even I had to admit that the music wasn't too bad. The warm-up act, some little-known band from an obscure Australian town, was good, but it was obvious that they weren't what most people had come for. After half an hour of watching them thrashing around in the typical wannabe style, Curt Wild graced the stage. And I really do mean graced. That man didn't walk, it was almost as if he was floating above the ground with some inhuman animal grace. The crowd erupted into cheers and whistles as he started to sing. I was mesmerised. Listening to him sing, I don't know how I ever could have doubted that there was emotion in glam rock. Curt's voice almost rattled the soul with its heart-wrenching screams of agony and pain, and sending shivers down my spine, he went through the repertoire putting more raw emotion into each song than I'd heard in my life. And the music was not the only thing that transfixed me; it was Curt himself too. He was beautiful, absolutely beautiful. I hated myself for thinking these things, tried to banish them away, blame them on the alcohol, but I couldn't; they just kept coming back; why should I, a happily married man, who loved his wife and children to distraction, be thinking such things about someone else? And this was not just 'someone else' - it was a **man**. Why the fuck was this happening to me?

I stared half shamefully at him throughout the entire performance, and no matter how many times I tried to pull my eyes away from his; I knew in my heart that I was fighting a losing battle. I was lost in his gaze, and I realised with a jolt that I didn't **want** to stop looking at him, I didn't **want** to leave. I could have stayed in that bar for God knows how long and been perfectly content with just drinking in every inch of him.

Curt 

I had expected this gig in Melbourne to be pretty much like most of the other small gigs I'd been doing recently, and that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. The crowds were usually responsive and I always felt like I could interact better in smaller venues, and really put my all into the performance. However, after half a decade of touring, you begin to feel like you've seen everything, and it takes something extra to make you feel the rush. It's like drugs; the more you do, the more you have to keep pushing the limits and extremes to feel the buzz. I went on stage, surveyed the crowd, and almost fell off the stage. There was this guy, sitting at the bar, casually drinking a beer. At first glance, he didn't look like anything special, but something made me do a double take. Thank God I did; he was completely fuckin' gorgeous. He had these seemingly endless pools for eyes, and they were searching for something, searching **me** - looking deep into my very soul. It shook me, having someone look so intently at me, it not having happened for many a year. I was unprepared after all this time and my defences were down, I just didn't know how to deal with it. I seriously almost melted into a puddle under that intense gaze, and really that was what I wanted to do. I didn't want to go on stage and sing, I just wanted to hold this guy in my arms and caress his skin, his hair… But of course that was out of the question. I sang, I sang better than I had in a long time, and I felt the rush. The adrenalin pumping through my veins pushed me on, and by the end of the show I was exhausted. I had meant every emotion, every bit of raw energy in the songs. Being stared at so deeply had left me with a feeling of naivety, just as I had felt years ago, my heart having been kicked around and bruised, and eventually broken, by Brian. It was the weirdest feeling – I felt I had known this guy all my life, it was like he was a part of me, when in actuality, I didn't even know his name. But I didn't care. I wanted him like I'd wanted nothing before, like I never thought I'd want anything again, just to have him hold me and feel protected and safe.


	3. Sua Cuique Voluptas Part 3

Part Three

**Ewan**

I sat there, still hypnotised by both the emotion and frustration I had heard in Curt's voice, and also the longing which now coursed through my veins. Should I throw away my old life and toss aside everything I had known for 30 years? Or leave, just walk out of the bar and carry on with my life in the typical, expected manner, but throw away something I wanted more than anything I could remember, and what might be my chance of true escapism and happiness? I sat, torn between these two frames of mind, when Curt himself darted out into the crowd, obviously trying to remain unnoticed. He glanced around feverishly, looking for something - someone. Looking for… me? No, no, that wasn't possible. This man was a vision, an almost God-like creature, how could he ever feel anything for a mere mortal like myself? 

Sighing, I tore my eyes away from him, trying to convince myself that if I didn't look at him, the insane feelings of longing and need would stop twisting up my insides. Of course, I was wrong. If anything they got worse, wondering what he was doing, who he was talking to, what he was saying. I gave up and turned round again, downing the rest of my Guinness, and noticed that he had edged ever so slightly closer to where I was sitting. My heart gave a wild leap of joy, which intensified thousands of times over when he glanced over at me and caught my eye again. Shying suddenly, I turned back to the bar to order another drink, and while my back was turned, I heard someone creep up behind me. I felt their hand on my shoulder, tracing its way down my bare arm to my palm, sending spasms of pleasure throughout my entire body. I suddenly felt like a small child, almost too scared to turn around in case it wasn't him. By the time I had, he was gone, and all I was left with was his profile, silhouetted against the smoke. 

I felt like no way I ever had before: How is it possible that anyone could do this to me? My body ached with lust after one touch, and it was all I could do to restrain myself from running out of the bar and chasing after him. Every nerve in my body called out for him, but I couldn't follow him. For one, filming started the next day, and I had to sleep. So I hauled myself out of the bar and called a taxi, collapsing on the crappy bed back at my hotel, my head spinning with thoughts and emotions, but one sentence resounded over and over in my mind: I had to see him again.


	4. Sua Cuique Voluptas Part 4

Part Four 

Ewan 

Another day of filming had left me utterly drained. I loved working with Baz, but he was constantly pushing us on, motivating us to fulfil our highest capabilities, so I seemed forever tired. Tonight was different though – we were finally having a much-deserved break. I had told Baz how incredible the Curt Wild gig had been, which was hardly scratching the surface of my real opinion, but I felt then that I could hardly go into my innermost feelings with my director, and suggested to him that the whole cast and crew went to the next one. Purely so we could get to know each other better, I had said, not mentioning at all my own personal reasons for wanting to see Curt again.

Baz had agreed, so later that night I was going to once again see the man who had not left my thoughts for over a week, and seemed to be all my deepest desires personified.

Shivering with anticipation, I drummed my fingers nervously on the mahogany counter of the bar, dressed again in my denim and leather. I fidgeted all the way through the opening act, I'd heard it all before, I wasn't there for them. I suddenly realised I reminded myself of those fans I'd seen at the first gig – restless, just wanting the wannabe act to end. This flooded me with fear; did Curt fix others with his beautiful, endless gaze? This thought made me all the more nervous and uneasy, so I drummed and tapped away even more furiously. Occasionally someone would ask me if I was all right, and I would respond with a non-committal mumble and continue with my fidgeting. Finally, after an eternity, Curt came on stage. Straight away I could feel myself overflowing with both need and a strange sense of pride. Once again, my eyes were locked to him; I didn't dare look away for a second, in case this beautiful being was snatched back to the celestial otherworld he must surely have come from.

I was drowning, made helpless by his beauty, far beyond rescue. When he saw me, his eyes momentarily filled with shock, but he quickly composed himself and the gaze he returned me was filled with soft, tender recognition. As his voice, so full of meaning and feeling, filled my ears, Baz turned to me, "Good, isn't he?" Suddenly shaken out of my dream world, I almost breathlessly murmured "Yes, very" before returning my full attention to Curt.

After the gig had ended, the emotions inside me had built up so intensely that I felt I would be crushed by my desires unless someone could share the 'secret'. Whoever I told, it had to be someone who knew me well enough to understand, but not so well that I would be judged, and their opinion of me changed for the worse… Baz.


	5. Sua Cuique Voluptas Part 5

Part Five 

**Ewan**

Downing a whisky to try and sedate the butterflies fluttering manically in my stomach, I hauled Baz to one side and told him, shakily at first, but growing in confidence as I continued, what I felt for Curt. I told him of the mass of emotions that engulfed me every time I saw him, the way he captured and enthralled me, how I could sit for hours, transfixed by his beauty and poise. Baz sat, listening to it all, nodding every now and then to assure me he was paying attention and understood. When I was finished, he stared at me and said frankly, "I thought as much. It was clear to me how you felt when I saw the way your attention was completely focused on him during the performance. You only looked away once during the whole two hours, and that was just to tell me how good he was. Ewan, you aren't the first person to feel this way about him, and you certainly won't be the last, but if you really want me to, I might be able to get you backstage." 

Shit. This was more than I had dared to hope for. I feigned nonchalance and calm as I said, "Yes… OK", when inside my heart was hammering against my ribcage and every inch of me was crying out "Fuck, yes!"

"Right," Baz carried on, smiling. "I know a few guys who work here from school. I'll have a word with them and see what I can do" He grinned warmly at me and walked off. He came back, about ten minutes later, and said, "OK, if you go in that door over there," he gestured at a door to the right of the stage, "And ask for Mark, then when he comes, say you're a friend of mine and are looking for Curt Wild." I repeated the instructions back to him, and then walked up to the door, rapping smartly on its oak-effect surface. It opened, and a casually dressed young man poked his head round the door. "Is Mark there?" I asked, and continued when the man nodded and said that he was Mark. "Oh, I'm a uh…friend of Baz's and I'm looking for Curt Wild…" I stammered. My heart was battering away so hard inside my chest, I was sure the whole fucking bar could hear it. Mark shouted something, and everything that happened next seemed to take place in slow motion. I saw Curt walk towards me, eyes burning with a strange etherealflame, I saw him take me in his arms and press his lips against mine, running his hands through my hair, caressing my back down to my hips, sending shivers of delight pulsating all over my body. I remember it almost as if I had floated out of myself and watched from afar as I received the most perfect pleasure my essentially naïve body had ever experienced.


	6. Sua Cuique Voluptas Part 6

Part Six 

Curt 

He lay next to me, asleep. His dark hair had fallen across his face, making him look younger, more innocent. Even when asleep, his beauty was obvious – his skin almost gleamed in the moonlight, a stark contrast against the near black of his hair. I reached across instinctively to brush the hair off his face, and couldn't resist placing a tender kiss to his forehead. I lay back, trying to get my head around what the hell had just happened. I felt like it had been like a dream, something that was hard to recall, as if it were covered by a haze, muffling my memory. 

The window was open and a draught had begun to swirl around the room, making me shiver. I curled up as close as I could to him, stroking his shoulder, trying to convince myself that he was still here and wasn't going to leave. I was both blissfully happy, and also irritated for letting this happen again, and so quickly. After Brian had left me alone and shattered in two, I thought my heart had been so hardened against any emotion except pain that I could never even begin to feel this way about anyone ever again. But I had been proved wrong. This man had saved me – not only from a life lonelier than I could begin to imagine, but also from myself, from the frail, bitter skeleton my heart could have become. Despite this, anxiety still lurked in the back of my mind – what if he left me, just like Brian? Could my heart stand the pain of being broken twice? But he wasn't Brian, I thought. No one else could be either both as perfect or as poisonous as Brian, so I hoped that no matter what happened, my heart could be bruised neither as hard nor as devastatingly as before. Besides, this man had an impression of openness and compassion about him that Brian had never had. Something in him told me that he would be more careful with me, and not shatter my soul into countless pieces.

Suddenly the ridiculousness of the situation hit me; this man was my saviour, my rescuer, my angel, and I didn't even know his name. But that could wait till the morning. Smiling to myself, I kissed him again and settled back to sleep. 


	7. Sua Cuique Voluptas Part 7

**Part Seven**

**Curt**

Ewan, his name was Ewan. It suited him perfectly – it was strong and yet lyrical, like a two syllable song.

He was gone by the time I awoke, still curled around the empty space where his body had been, and in his place was a small, roughly folded piece of paper. I imagined the hands that had written it caressing and stroking my skin, sending white-hot flickers of desire searing through my body, as they had done the night before. Shaking my head as if to clear it, I smoothed the note out on the crumpled sheets, and tried to decipher his hurried scribble. "Curt – sorry I have to leave you so early, filming starts at 9. Last night was… electric, but all very, very new to me. Talk later. Ewan." I was disappointed at the briefness of it, but what had I been expecting? A long intimate, elaborate love letter, spilling his heart and expressing his deepest longings, from someone I'd, in truth, just met? Sighing, I tried to console myself with 1) the previous night had been as fucking incredible for him as me, and 2) that he was coming back. And the revelation that it was "very, very new" to him surprised me. He seemed to know what he was doing if last night was anything to go by…

Pulling on the pair of leather trousers that had been hastily tossed aside the night before, I shuddered as the memory of where I was hit me; still in my dressing room backstage. Shit. Lighting a cigarette, I inhaled deeply, savouring the sensation as the smoke swirled around my lungs. It seemed to calm and settle me, cover my anxieties for a while, hiding them from me. Backstage appeared to be deserted, so I decided to poke around and see if there was anything to keep my thoughts from racing over and around **him**. Half an hour later, I slumped down on my bed, still with Ewan floating around my brain. I almost screamed with frustration. He had lodged himself into my mind and occupied all my thoughts; every inch of me cried out for him. How the hell had I fallen in so deep so quickly? I knew I would end up drowning if I wasn't careful, but there was no one to help me, and I was far beyond rescue. Grabbing a notebook and pen, I watched as the emotions flowed out of my brain and onto the paper, amazed as always at the calm and stillness it brought.

_Dehydrated_

_Reincarnated_

_Phoenix rising from the ashes, alight_

_Soul lightened_

_Scars tightened_

_Born again with will, with might_

_Drowning_

_Surrounding_

_Encased in wonder, ascends on high_

_The skeletal frame breathes again,_

_Restoring, returning the life it once had_

_Saviour, saviour_

_How can I return the favour?_

_Saviour, saviour_

_Spiteful, sweet, regain the flavour_


End file.
